Visions of War
by Flame Falcon
Summary: Oneshot introducing the Sons of the Blade Chapter. Chaplain Commander Nathaniel questions the purpose and the recognition his Chapter has received for their millenniums of service to Holy Terra. When he receives visions of a war to come, he knows the purpose regarding his Chapter.


"_We are judged in our lives for the evils we destroy May the Emperor and the Khan give this on his just reward for his skill in war." _The words were etched unto the tombstone in front of him. Chaplain Commander Nathaniel stood in front of this one, his bare fingers running over the freshly carved words. As Chaplain for the Sons of the Blade, it was his duty to inscribe words for the fallen. To give voice to those who had theirs taken away from them in battle was one of the many tasks given unto him. Like all of his duties, he accepted them without complaint or argument. He was no longer a sniveling, sullen boy after all, he was an Astarte.

He looked away from the stone and looked down the massive rows of similar stones, inscribed with words of prayers, litanies, and quotes of fallen brothers. No one truly knew how many stones there were, thousands of generations of warriors were buried here. Testimony of those who gave their all for the God Emperor of Mankind, whose deeds were known to Him on Earth and unfortunately only unto Him. Nathaniel unlocked his skull helmet, breathing in the fresh air of the moon. An unnatural peace came over the shrine world they called their own. The only sound in the air was that of his breathing and the wind in the distance.

He walked down the rows of stones, murmuring words of prayer and blessings for each stone, in which under was a Battle Brother who answered his call. He found a bench made from sand stone slab and he rested his weight on the stone. He ran a black gauntlet through his thick blond hair and looked down the rows in all directions he could. Of the few connections they kept with their founding Legion, the White Scars, the Sons of the blade valued the mortality of life and stayed away from bionics unless the need was truly great. Unlike their fathers, they used Dreadnoughts, though it was only when the Battle Brother wanted to serve longer and would not be buried with his brothers on this world. As such, the instruments of war were few and far between.

They attained their faith in the Kahn, knowing one day he would return and lead them in battle against the Enemies of man in one final battle for all of Creation at the side of the Emperor. On that day, Nathaniel hoped he would be with his fallen brothers and allies, ready for the great battle against the very forces of damnation. He prayed with all his soul that the Emperor would grant him such a place at His side.

Still, on many occasions Nathaniel thought that it was not enough to merely bury their Brothers in awaiting the final battle to raise them from their graves. They answered the Imperium's call and not once did they stray when their lives were threatened. Was that not the meaning of a true warrior? To forget all risks and lead your Brothers to victory? That was their way; hit hard and fast! Leave nothing in their wake of the foe; it was their method of warfare!

They were not glory hounds of the Imperial Fists or the ridged closed minds of the Red Scorpions, they were Sons of the Blade, damn it! They charged the enemy and left nothing of the enemies of Man, they aided those who would be surely lost, deploying into the thickest of combat and brining down armies of traitors, heretics and xenos. Why where they not recognized for their deeds to the greater Imperium? Those statements and questions rang through his head. Nathaniel shook his head, clearing his mind of doubts and frustrations the best it could.

He picked up the symbol of office, the Crozius Arcanum and looked at it. The symbol of the Chaplain, this was the reward for the endless years of training, meditation and prayer. The golden plated power mace had angelic wings with a long sword down the center of the mace, acting as the power conductor for the weapon. The activation rune was not far from his thumb, and to clear his mind he activated the rune. Like an activated blue colored flare, the Arcanum light up with a massive rage and bathed the Space Marine in its heavenly glow. Falling to one knee, he looked to the rows and rows of stone. Closing his eyes, he prayed to his ancestors, to the Great Jagatai Khan and to the Emperor.

"O Emperor, in wrath rejoicing at bloody wars; fierce and untamed,  
whose mighty power doth make the strongest walls from their foundation shake,  
All-conquering Master of Mankind, Be pleased with this war's tumultuous roar.  
Delight in swords and fists red with alien blood, and the dire ruin of savage battle.  
Rejoice in furious challenge, and avenging strife, whose works with woe embitter human life.

Trust in the Emperor at the hour of battle.  
Trust to Him to intercede, and protect His warriors true as they deal death on alien soil.  
Turn their seas to red with the blood of their slain.  
Crush their hopes, their dreams  
And turn their songs into cries of lamentation."

His eyes opened and Nathaniel saw his gathered brothers before him. Standing shoulder to shoulder, the sounds of combi-bolters being loaded, the whisper of the whetstone, and the racking of bolts filled the air for him. This was a chapel of the God Emperor, warriors ready to die, standing high with their banners. This was a part of the visions he received due to their meditative practices. The Sons of the Blade often had visions of battles past and future when they entered a deep meditative state of prayer. While this was one of them, Nathaniel wondered if it was indeed the illusion. He could smell the incense from the chambers around his belt and the familiar weight of his inferno pistol along with is Arcanum seemed almost too real then it would be in the visions he normal received.

He walked forward to address his brethren and was greeted with almost fists bashing into chest plates. "Honor of the Primarch be upon you, Commander!" The words were said in almost perfect unison. To those who were not native to the Chapter, it would have been unnerving. To Nathaniel, it was invigorating. "Praise the Emperor, may he bless our weapons to do His will! The sword is strong, but Faith guides it!" The words echoed the battle cry of the Chapter.

Nathaniel addressed his brethren, "Blessed be the Holy Emperor of Mankind and his Sons!"

_"For He is our shield!" The gathered Space Marines roared._

"We fight for The Emperor!"

_"For it is our purpose, and our duty! How we cherish the fact!"_

"We kill for The Emperor and for the Kahn!"

_"For it is our duty and honor! Who would question us?"_

"We die for The Emperor! We die for Humanity and those who have fallen for us! We fight to the cold plains to join our anestors!"

_"For it is our destiny and our joy!"_

"We are His Angels of Death!" Nathaniel turned to the stained glass window of the Emperor, smiting a daemon. "WE ARE YOURS TO COMMAND!"

_"And We Shall Know No Fear!"_

_ Nathaniel turned back to his brothers and raised his war mace high above his head. "My Brothers of the Khan, my Brothers of the Sword. I would rather fight alongside you then any army of thousands." Fists slammed into their chest plates in a tone of agreement. "Let no one forget who we are. We are fiercer then the lions!" The fists slammed again. "In the words of a close friend of mine,_ Chaplain Cassius of the Ultramarines truly defines who we are_. "There are some men, weak philosophers and cowards, who say that hatred clouds the judgment. They are wrong! Hatred gives us purity. Hatred gives us focus. Hatred gives us our purpose."_

Deafening barbaric howls greeted his answer. The world around him slowly and slowly got quieter, the roars exiting to whispers. His vision began to zone out and he soon found himself looking into the head stone of his mentor. He brought his closed fist to the hearts in respect for this great man. Meditation was good for the soul and the mind. And upon witnessing that vision, a vision of war, it was clear that the Sons of the Blade were made for war. They were made to defend Humanity from the Traitor, the Heretic and the Xeno. Damn what the High Lords of Terra thought about them, they had to focus their minds on the battles ahead of them, not on conjecture.

"You have been having the visions again have you not?" Warseer Merrick asked. Nathaniel turned his attention to the psyker, his blue armor set against the primary green of the Chapter. Like many chapters, the warp gifted were formed into their own units, in this case they were the Warseers, where other traditional chapters called them Librarians. There was very little traditional about the Sons of the Blade.

Nathaniel rose from his position and followed the Warseer. Nathaniel was the tallest, almost by a whole head over the Librarian. "Indeed have I. It troubles me much that such visions would plague me. I know it is our heritage and that such things are to be embraced. But it leads me to be fearful of what it would be if it is just visions and not something else. The Khan, honor is unto him, has not the stable seed of the Ultramar or the Angels of Caliban. May he forgive me for such words from my mouth." Merrick nodded and shook his head as if clearing it of a bad thought.

The visions were known to the Warseers as The Hunt of Dreams. In moments of meditation, rest and even cases of combat, a strange visions comes over them, allowing them to see visions of the future or relive moments of the past. Should it be in battle, they are over come believing that they are a hero reborn of the Chapter and fight to ignore the most grievous of wounds. Regardless, they were not like the Death Company of the Blood Angel or any of holy Sanguineous' sons. All of these were temporary and tackling it has been a job of the apothecaries for many millenniums, yet no breaks were discovered.

Merrick nodded his head in agreement. "Indeed, it is true. If is both a blessing and a curse. We are granted foretelling of the future and we have used these to our advantage. But you must know I did not come here for simple conversation." Nathaniel smiled, it was true. Merrick or any of the Warseers never came for simple small talk. They usually came from meditations and Chapter command. "I have consulted the Emperor's Tarot and the Warp itself is screaming all around me. Of the cards that were drawn were the Great Eye, the Sword, the Shattered World and the Aquila. "

Nathaniel pursed his lips in thought. The Great Eye represented an inevitable war with Chaos, but the Sword drawn along with it meant a mighty war against them. This was drawn usually when whole sectors were under siege. But it was also draw when a Black Crusade was about to be undertaken. Could this be the birth pangs of another attempt to claim Cadia from the Imperium? Nathaniel shuttered at the thought of such a thing. He last two cards were unusual, the Aquila and the Shattered World meant that the forces of the Eternal Enemy were already on a world and the Aquila meant that there was a small force defending it from its damning downfall. "What do the cards read for you, Warseer?"

Merrick nodded and rested his weight on a Force Spear he was granted for his two hundred years of service to the chapter. "I read that the Despoiler will come once again into real space and that a Black Crusade will be behind him, granting whatever power he so decides. However, ours will not be at the forefront of the fighting, rather it will be a back world in the East Fringes. I have consulted the Astropath and one has spoken of a world called Haven Minor, under attack by rebellion. I fear the situations will soon escalate."

Nathaniel grinned like a Space Wolf. "The Second War Party is looking forward to cutting their teeth against the forces of Chaos. Killings Orks is fine work, but bring down the traitor and the heretic is good for the soul." The two laughed and Nathaniel walked with the Wareer back to the Thunderhawk that was awaiting the Battle Barge waiting in orbit. "But tell me, Merrick. Of the Thirteen War Parties, why did you select the Second?"

The Warseer turned back to his old friend and smiled with purpose. "No reason, I merely saw the 38th Moor Overlanders were taking charge of the battle and I assumed that you wished to take them unto war. Is that a problem, Chaplain Commander?" Nathaniel howled with laughter. He had served alongside the 38th in the defense of his home planet. If they were endangered, the forces of damnation would surely regret such an insult.

"There is no problem honored one." Merrick nodded with thanks to the compliment. They boarded the Thunderhawk and took them back to the battle barge. They would arrive and spread the news of holy war to the rest of the Sons of the Blade. They would descend upon the enemy like a Jungle Terror, striking hard and fast, leaving nothing but the shattered corpse of their enemy in their wake.


End file.
